Just A Little Bit Damaged
by DesertStranger
Summary: The Jester had become a part of him for fifteen years. Why does he seem to disappear when the Listener is near? Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Stupid lizard!" he cursed through puffs of air as he ran, the snow crunching underneath his jester boots. "I almost had her if only that stupid lizard didn't get in Cicero's way!"

He heard an unnatural howl in the distance behind him and instantly knew the strumpet's mutt was chasing him. "First a lizard and now a sheepdog?" he laughed a little too hard and almost lost his footing, his foolishness only fueled his laughter. "Just a little bit farther Cicero old boy!" he told himself fighting back the giggles bubbling up in his chest. He hadn't chased or been chased in so long he could hardly contain himself.

He could see the entrance to the town of Dawnstar and thought about just cutting through the houses to get to the sanctuary faster but knew the sight of a near hysterical jester being hunted down by a werewolf would draw some unwanted attention to the brotherhoods abandoned hideout. Although it would be undoubtedly an amusing sight to behold he choose instead to go undetected. He was Mother's sweet Cicero after all. "You wouldn't like that now would you Mother?" he sighed as he neared the Dark Brotherhoods abandoned sanctuary. Even though Mother wasn't anywhere near him he knew she could still hear him and talking to her always calmed his nerves.

He pulled his jester glove off his right hand and laid it flat on the engraved sanctuary door. "Brrrr chilly," he mumbled and waited for the door to speak.

"What is life's greatest illusion?" the door asked.

If it wasn't for a hairy mutt on his heels Cicero would have joked with the door but decided he needed to gain access straight away.

"In-" before he could finish the phrase he heard the snow behind him crunch down under someone's weight and barely had enough time to dodge a pair of hairy clawed hands. Cicero rolled to the side away from the man beast, unsheathing his ebony dagger in the process. A tiny giggle escaping him. "Look! Look Cicero has a shiny sharp stick for you to fetch Arnbjorn!" He waved his dagger around in front of him and laughed. "Let's play."

"I've been waiting for this moment clown. You're dead," Arnbjorn growled. His muzzle curling up revealing hideously sharp canines.

He was such an ugly person to begin with, transforming into a sheepdog could only do so much for a man. Cicero made himself laugh and as if sensing his insulting thoughts Arnbjorn rushed at the jester with his claws.

Werewolves were strong he knew that but Cicero also knew that because of the brute strength they received through transformation that they were also incredibly slow. He dodged Arnbjorns swings one after another. He never understood why people allowed themselves to turn into such ugly beasts. The power given was only temporary and they were always hunted down once the town's people would find out. There was always a contract the Dark Brotherhood would receive dealing with a suspected werewolf or vampire.

"Stand still little man!" Arnbjorn roared.

"Where's the fun in that?" Cicero laughed. "And they call Cicero crazy."

The two of them circled each other taking swipes at one another when the opportunity provided itself. Cicero was growing annoyed, he needed to get inside the sanctuary before that strumpet Astrid sent more brothers and sisters to end his life. He could defend himself within the sanctuary but out here in the open? No. His blade had been sheathed far too long, he was rusty. Back when he was completing contracts he could finish off a werewolf with two stabs of his dagger but now. Now he was dancing around with a stupid sheepdog…

There! He had an opening and lunged forward. His blade piercing Arnbjorns side making him howl in pain and anger.

Cicero laughed menacingly but his joy was short lived when he realized his blade was stuck in the damned beast. Before he could let go he was hit backwards off his feet and into the air. He landed hard a few feet away, dagger still in hand. Arnbjorn was limping slowly towards him, holding his bloody side. Quickly Cicero got to his feet and sprinted for the sanctuary door. Dodging another swing from the injured werewolf. He murmured the password and the door opened for him. He could hear Arnbjorns steps quickening and a loud thud hit against the door as it closed behind him.

Cicero was breathing so hard he almost choked on his own laughter. He leaned against the door to catch his breath, "I made it Mother." His smile turned into a frown and he winced as his body began to relax. "But . . . Not completely unscathed," he hissed as he clutched his side. He could feel the warmth of his own blood on his hand growing cold as it dripped down onto his jester suit.

"Damn sheepdog," Cicero muttered to himself applying ample pressure to his bleeding wound and began making his way through the sanctuary trying desperately not to think about how much blood he was losing. He doubted the sheepdog would try clawing his way through the door to get at him again but just in case he was wrong he wiped his bloody hand every once in a while on a part of the sanctuary wall.

He had read about this place while transporting Mother to the only operating sanctuary left in Skyrim. This place had been abandoned for nearly a hundred years and he was fascinated with exploring the types of traps used to defend the building back when it was being used. He told Mother about it but knew of course that she already knew far more than what he had just learned about back then.

"Your Keeper is calling for aid brothers and sisters," he ranted. "The Night Mothers ways are being tainted. In the name of Sithis defend the old ways from the corruption of the new."

There was a shift in the air and guardians of the past began to emerge from every part of the sanctuary. Their ghostly blue transparent forms taking on a more solid appearance as time passed. Cicero smiled widely at the opportunity to summon the Dark Brotherhoods guardians, if only they had put more thought into such a defense at Cheydinhals sanctuary. They could have survived and he wouldn't have been left alone. It just showed how much they were slipping from the old ways even when the Night Mother had a listener back then.

Had this all been a test of loyalty? To weave out the weak from the strong?

Cicero's mind was snapped back to reality when he heard the door to the sanctuary begin to slid open. "Stubborn sheepdog!" he muttered and made his way down towards the end of the sanctuary. Carefully activating traps along the way and only turned back around when he heard the clinking of metal against metal. It wasn't the fight that made him turn back to watch but the feminine battle cry that was mixed into it. It wasn't the sheepdog and even though he knew who it was he still hoped it was someone other than the listener.

"Listener! Is that you?" he watched her head perk up and her grey eyes dart around the room in search of him. "I knew you would come. Send the best to defeat the best," he joked. "Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero," he grunted the last part out as he pushed himself further into the sanctuary. He had to admit he was tired, so tired his head was beginning to ache as much as his side was. He didn't have to look to know he was still bleeding, if he didn't down a potion of healing soon he knew his time was going to come to a hazy end.

He should be afraid but he wasn't. He wasn't afraid to join his brethren in death, actually he was looking forward to it. To die in Mothers honor was what he lived for after all, why he was chosen as her Keeper. Finding another listener was just a bonus, a personal promise he had made to mother long ago when the last one perished in a blaze of fire. He did although regret stabbing Veezara, they were similar in their loyalty. He admired that in the Argonian. Too bad Veezara's loyalty was tied to that retched woman Astrid instead of where it belonged. To the Night Mother.

"All right! So Cicero attacked that harlot Astrid," he began. He needed to tell the listener. If she listened to Astrid then the Dark Brotherhood would be no more. They would become nothing more than hired swords who crept in the night. "But what's a fool to do when his Mother's slandered and mocked!? Surely the listener understands. If it's any comfort, I do feel slightly bad about Veezara. Stupid lizard got in my way," He laughed. He shouldn't have but he couldn't help it. Everything was spinning and he felt drunk. "But please tell me that hulking sheepdog bled to death!"

Of course there was no answer and that made him quite nervous, she had always been kind to him. Sought him out while everyone else went out of their way to avoid him. That was odd even to him and not many things made Cicero deem them odd but she was. She always tried to get his advice on whatever contract she was assigned even though he told her plenty of times that he hadn't a clue. His blade had been sheathed for fifteen years once he was chosen as Mothers Keeper. Not to mention he was new to Skyrim himself, he had explored DawnStar when he first arrived but nowhere else.

At first he was appalled that she didn't know much of the history behind the Dark Brotherhood, a little of their matron the Night Mother but little of everything else. Of Sithis, of the void. Where he wondered did she think her kills went? He tried his best to explain their traditions. Told her stories that had been passed down to him when he first joined. It made him laugh really, he never thought he'd survive to be as old as he was now. So many in the Dark Brotherhood either died during their contracts or were captured and killed not long after joining, only the skilled survived.

"Oh how time passes!" he laughed and pushed open the last door at the end of the sanctuary. There was nowhere left to run now, he laid on the stone floor carefully so that the hilt of his ebony dagger was still accessible. If he could get her only a foot away he had a chance. He could certainly kill her if she was that close. . . But did he truly want to?

For years his blade yearned to bathe in blood once more. For years he wanted to watch the life once again fade from someone's eyes but did he want that someone to be the Listener?

He could hear her fighting the guardians still and she was getting closer.

"You're still alive? Cicero respects the Listeners abilities of course but could you at least slow down a bit? I'm not what I use to be," he snorted. He was hoping the guardians would have taken care of her so he wouldn't have to.

"Oh this isn't what Mother would want. You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener! Now that's madness," he groaned. You need her more than poor old Cicero right mother?

The door in front of him opened and the Listener stepped calmly into the room. Her ebony sword drawn and ready to kill.

He wanted to feel mad, betrayed like he had before when she came tumbling out of Mothers tomb but he couldn't hold this against her because he knew. Oh yes! He knew. They all whispered and laughed at the fool that was Cicero but he knew. Mother may not have chosen him as Listener but that never stopped him from listening to them all. It took all he had to just listen to that harlot Astrid spread her filth throughout what was left of the Dark Brotherhood. Weakening them and It was no surprise to see she had ordered the Listener to end his life for her. Astrid's leadership was threatened when he and the Night Mother first arrived, even more so when the Listener was chosen. If he killed the Listener now then Astrid wouldn't stop chasing him until he too was dead.

Maybe if he could convince the Listener then they would have a chance. "Well," he began. "You caught me. Cicero has no fight left."

She neither moved nor spoke and he laughed nervously. Maybe this would be harder than he thought.

"Oh! You prefer to listen ey? Of course, of course! The Listener listens. A joke, a funny joke!" he laughed until his wound on his side began to ache. "I get it." He needed to be serious now, "Then listen to this. Don't kill me, let poor Cicero live. I attacked that strumpet Astrid I did and I'd do it again! Anything for our Mother. Return to the pretender, tell her I'm dead. Tell her you strangled me with my own intestines." The very thought made him laugh, "but lie. Lie and let me live."

* * *

The Listener emerged from the sanctuary with her sword sheathed but her hands bloody. Slowly she made her way to Frost, her trusty steed. A handsome Palomino Clydesdale she had swindled during her first job in Riften. She lifted her pale hand to pet his mane but froze remembering the blood covering her hands.

The image of Cicero's smile flashed in her mind.

She knelt to the floor and scooped a handful of snow up from off the ground. Thoroughly using it to clean her hands and afterwards she quickly mounted her horse. Only glancing back at the sanctuary door for a moment wondering if she had made the right choice.

Either way his smile would haunt her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any recognizable items from the Skyrim world.

* * *

By Sithis! He was bored, so bored he wished the Listener would decide to come back and finish him off so he wouldn't have to spend another day just laying around here on an uncomfortable stone bed. How anyone could find comfort on such a thing was beyond him. The Jester his only company which recently was becoming quite loathing towards any thoughts of the Listener.

Cicero sighed and unsheathed his dagger. Wincing as he propped himself up on an elbow towards the wall and slashed at it hard enough to leave a mark. An addition to many others, signifying it had been longer than a month since she left him here alive enough to recover from Arnbjorn's brutish hit.

He thought back to that day more than he should but it was the first time in a long time he had actually felt like himself. The Jester for a moment had been silenced. He laid back down and tried making himself as comfortable as possible. It was difficult, everything seemed difficult lately. Thoughts of the Listener kept coming back to him again and again no matter how many times he tried to push her out of his mind.

_Pity! She only spared your life because she pitied you!_ The Jester laughed in his head._ Poor pitiful Cicero!_

He replayed that day in his head and wondered if it was true. Why else would she?

* * *

The feel of her cold blade pressed against his throat as he laid curled in on himself drunk from blood loss on the floor. He remembered bracing himself to look at her, to look into those grey eyes that only days before sent a warmth of friendship through him. He wasn't afraid to die no, he was afraid to see what she kept hidden from him. He was afraid to see if their friendship had been genuine, if she indeed thought he was nothing just like the rest of them. He steeled his heart to acknowledge the loathing he would see in her usually kind eyes. He was prepared! . . . At least so he thought.

He forced his eyes to connect with hers and was taken back to see instead, turmoil. A mixture of uncertainty that made what little hope in him soar to the surface like a hawk and made his lips curl upwards into a smile. A genuine smile not from the Jester but from he himself because he knew for certain at the time whether he lived or died there would be a chance.

A chance for the old ways to survive, for the Dark Brotherhood to once again grow.

He had stayed loyal to his word and he would die like the Jester. Content and happy. He closed his eyes and awaited his fate, sleep never seemed more appealing before now. He felt his mind drifting, swirling uncontrollably and a familiar voice he couldn't quite comprehend.

Night Mother? Is that you? Cicero is on his way!

He could feel someone touching him, moving him but he was just too tired to care. Then nothing, he could hear the emptiness of nothing and his eyes slowly opened. Confused, Cicero was so confused. He was not with Sithis, he was not with Mother. He looked around and like a slap to the face he realized he was in the same place with no Listener in sight.

No! his mind screamed.

_You're a ghost_, the Jester giggled in his head.

"No!" Cicero gasped and sat up quickly to look at himself and instantly regretting it as a searing bolt of pain surged throughout his side at the sudden movement.

The Jester laughed and laughed making Cicero's head hurt.

"Foolish Cicero thought he was a ghost," he laughed weakly at himself through the pain. He looked down and ran a hand over the cloth wrapped around his midsection. He took in his surroundings noticing it was more . . . livable? There was food and water tucked away in a corner to his right with various other potions. His Jester coat was hanging off the edge of the entrance door that was left partly open.

* * *

"Cicero was so confused then and is still so confused now," he said to himself. What was he supposed to do now? Wait? Leave? He had been waiting and was growing restless as the days turned to nights. Oh Night Mother! What is Cicero supposed to do? Is he even still your Keeper? The thought unnerved him and he inhaled deeply to loosen the knot of panic increasing in his chest. Was he no longer part of the brotherhood? Was there even a Dark Brotherhood still? Who was attending to Mothers needs?

His eyes widened with a sudden horrifying realization and he roughly ran his hands threw his red shoulder length hair making his Jester hat fall to the ground. "No! Surely they wouldn't! Would they?" he asked himself. "They wouldn't abandon Mother!"

He needed to know, he needed to do something! Anything. Cicero got to his feet making sure not to strain his side. He would have healed sooner if he hadn't foolishly reopened it by accidently almost stabbing himself while playing with his dagger. Staying still was easier said than done really.

He picked up his jester hat, shrugged on his Jester coat and grabbed a few minor healing potions on his way out just in case.

Once outside he couldn't help but take in the smell of the forest mixing with smell of the sea. The thin fabric of his Jester suit did nothing to properly block the cold ocean breeze that made him shiver but it was easier to sneak in than other clunky armor. It was snowing lightly and he had to resist the urge to roll around in it. Promising himself he would do so when he was better, he looked around and noticed a dark patch in the snow near the sanctuary door. He kicked at the top layer of fresh snow uncovering old blood, was it his blood? It could be then again it could be the mutts blood too. He giggled at it and kicked more snow on top of the stain.

What to do? What to do? He could just go into town and see if there is any gossip about the Dark Brotherhood or he could practice his sneaking.

Maybe even a little stabbing?

As much as he wanted to, no. No, not yet. Just sneaking, Cicero will just sneak, get information and then come back.

_Sweet roll?_

Cicero will just get information, a sweet roll and then come back.

_Carrots?_

Cicero will just get information, a sweet roll, carrots, and then come straight back!

With his mind and the Jester in agreement he snuck off around the back of Dawnstar.

Hours later he arrived back at the Sanctuary beaming with his hands full. He really was just going to get information, a sweet roll, and carrots but they just made it so easy for him to take more he couldn't resist. He was happy to find his sneaking abilities hadn't dulled at all, it all came back to him while he planned. He hoped to say the same for his stabbing abilities, he looked at the darkened blood to the side of the sanctuary door again with a smile of triumph. He did after all get that mutt as good as he got. He just didn't have a strumpet to run to, to lick his wounds.

_Yes you did_, the Jester giggled and the image of the Listeners lips sprang to mind making Cicero flush. He could feel the heat on his cheeks even with the chill of winter and he hated it. Red hair, red face. He hated it all!

He laughed it off and made his was back through the sanctuary towards the kitchen area tossing the information he gathered around in his head. The Emperor had been assassinated and he knew the Listener was behind it. Who else would do something so bold? Not Astrid that's for sure.

There were also rumors that the Darkbrotherhoods remaining sanctuary had been destroyed along with everyone in it. Cicero chucked his spoils onto the dining table without a care and began pacing the floor. It couldn't be true, the Listener was a fierce fighter. She had to still be alive but if so then where?

_With who?_

He stopped abruptly. What? Was that him or the Jester? He wondered scratching his chin as if in deep thought. Waiting for the Jester to comment again but there was nothing. Nothing but damn silence, again.

Then there was a sound he thought he was imagining. He froze to listen and he heard it again. He wasn't imagining it! The door! The door! It opened and closed. His heart leapt with both joy and fear. Just who was it? Cicero wondered. Should he greet them here or hide? What if it was the mutt or Astrid?

Hide, definitely hide until he knew for sure. He clung to the shadows just as he had done before. Listening to the footsteps that echoed through the stone sanctuary, there was more than one person.

"This place is a dump."

Babette!

"Yes and it would seem someone has been living here for a while."

Nazir!

Cicero had to restrain himself from jumping out and launching himself at his brother and sister. He wasn't alone, thank Sithis! Would they welcome him though? After what he tried to do. Did the Listener tell them she had let him live? It didn't sound like it. Was he supposed to leave before they arrived? Where was the Listener?

So many questions, he needed to find the Listener. He crept through the dilapidated part of the sanctuary where an ice troll once made its home and waited for his brother and sister to pass him unnoticed. Silently he slipped out the same way they had come in and all the way out of the sanctuary hoping to bump into the Listener along the way. Where in Sithis was she!?

He scanned the forest and even Dawnstar but for once there was no luck for this imperial.

What if she was sneaking and searching for him too? The thought made him laugh. It wasn't impossible, he thought as he walked and capered around in the forest. How could Cicero not caper at a time like this, he was happy after all.

On his way back to the sanctuary he was pleasantly greeted by the sight of Frost waiting patiently for his owner. Cicero dug in his pockets for a carrot but remembered disappointedly that he had left his spoils inside the sanctuary. "Sorry friend," he said stroking the horse's mane gently. "Cicero regretfully has nothing to offer you but a friendly hello. When will your owner return Cicero wonders?"

It wasn't long really, right after he asked the sanctuary door slid open and out came the Listener. Just as he remembered her, thieves guild hood and steel armor. Her eyes no longer troubled but filled with surprise.

"Listener!" he shouted a little bit too loud even for himself. His stomach tightening with anticipation, why was he feeling so nervous?

"Cicero!" she smiled warmly at him. "It's good to see you again, old friend."

That smile, those lips. He felt his face heating up again and so he did the only thing he could to stop it. He joked. "Oh yes, it is Cicero!" he laughed dramatically. "You were a fool to spare me. What, did you think I would be grateful? Cicero should be Listener! Not you!" he roared and took a fighting stance. _Foolish Cicero_. "Now you will die!"

He watched the Listeners face go from happy to one of confusion and he had to admit. It was quite funny, he began laughing. "Gotcha! Oh Listener you should see the look on your face!" Then he couldn't stop himself from laughing. Did she honestly think Cicero would do such a thing? "Oh. Cicero has returned! Not to kill the kind Listener, but to serve until one of us dies horribly in service to our Mother! Best friends forever."

Best friends? Foolish, foolish Cicero! He groaned at himself inwardly.

"In the meantime, I'll make myself at home In the Sanctuary. I'm sure Mother needs. . . tending." He excused himself and nearly sprinted into the sanctuary without looking back at the Listener.

He ran a hand over his face, frustrated with his flustered actions. What the hell was wrong with him?

* * *

**A/N:** Hello everybody, I hope you have enjoyed reading this so far. Thank you to those who clicked favorite and followed. I have to admit it's hard to keep Cicero's mind in one place but then again he is crazy after all. Things might also be a bit out of place setting wise due to my xbox crashing and losing all my previous game plays. For everything. . . Grrr. I have now converted to the pc version, I don't think I can ever go back to playing xbox now.


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